


Technicolour

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:49:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14586330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: In a world where people can't see colour until they've looked into the eyes of their soulmate, Bridget Westfall has spent her entire life in black and white.She hadn’t expected it, not anymore.Especially not for it to happen on a bus.





	Technicolour

**Author's Note:**

> For ADancerWrites  
> You colour my world

She hadn’t expected it, not anymore.

Bridget Westfall had spent forty-eight years without being able to see it, and she had made peace with it. The world looked just fine to her the way it was. She couldn’t suppress a slight pang of jealousy when she saw the way her sister looked at the world, though. There was always that extra layer in her gaze, one that Bridget was not destined to see. However, when she looked at her father, and the way he needed help with everything, she felt that, maybe, she didn’t want to see it. If losing love took the light from your eyes, it wasn’t worth having in the first place. She had a wonderful job as a psychologist at a private practice, friendly colleagues, and a cuddly - albeit slightly-overweight - cat. She was fine.

So when her car had broken down and she was stuck taking the bus to work, she hadn’t expected it. She was standing in the back of the vehicle, trying to keep her balance as the driver swerved through the streets of Melbourne. People were bunched up close together. It was rush hour, and it was raining. She tried to smoothen out a wrinkle in her blouse - silk, she loved the feeling of it beneath her fingertips - when the bus pulled up at yet another stop. Mentally, she counted the number of stops until she had to get out: three more to go. Looking down at her top, she wondered what it looked like to her sister. Helen had told her it was blue, and that the sky was the same colour, as was the ocean. Bridget had asked her whether the glass of water in front of her was blue too, then, and Helen had laughed.

“Don’t be silly,” her sister had told her. Bridget knew she wasn’t silly. She just couldn’t see. Her father had touched her hand and whispered: “Water reflects everything. It’s a beautiful sight.” 

Three businessmen pushed their way out of the bus, nearly tripping over a schoolgirl’s bookbag in the process. In the meantime, a young woman got on, trying to find a place to stand where she wouldn’t get in the way of the driver. 

That’s when Bridget saw it. 

A hint of something she had never seen before surrounded the girl’s body, like an aura. This had to be it. 

She had never expected it to be a woman, but she didn’t object to the idea. 

She hadn’t expected it, and the idea of seeing it now petrified her. She looked down at the ground and counted down the stops. At the third, she stepped out of the bus, leaving the woman behind her.

It was better that way. This way, she would never have to know.

 

Franky Doyle watched the woman get off the bus. 

She had felt it, and she had seen it. Colour. Actual colour. So hers was a woman, hey? It could just be added to the large list of reasons why she was an outcast. She had stolen a glance at the woman when she was certain she wasn’t looking. Admittedly, she was gorgeous, and her outfit screamed: ‘I don’t normally travel using public transport’. No-one who had ridden the bus more than once would get on one during rush hour in a silk blouse and pencil skirt, and especially not in heels. Franky chuckled to herself. The woman was so ridiculously out of her league, it was damn near pitiful.

Except Franky didn’t have to see colour. It just wasn’t her destiny.

 

Fate, however, seemed to disagree with her, Bridget thought as she walked into the restaurant of the Royal Melbourne Hospital with her sister nearly a year later, taking the newly-turned grandmother for a bite to eat. Helen had been gushing about her new grandson from the moment she had arrived, telling her what beautiful blue eyes the baby had. Bridget had smiled.

As she entered the dining area, she felt a shiver run through her body. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, and she was certain she had felt it only once before: on a bus. She spotted the young woman from metres away: the glow was an easy giveaway. The woman had her back turned towards her, but she saw a change in her posture the moment Bridget’s gaze fell upon her form. She knew.

“Bridge?” Helen’s voice called out, but Bridget was frozen in place. There she was, standing in the middle of the restaurant, staring at a woman she had only seen once before. A few people surrounding her watched with understanding smiles. They knew what she was feeling, but she had no idea what to do. All she could do was stand there.

Franky got up, murmuring: “Just a second, Booms.” Keeping her eyes focused on her feet, she moved over to where she knew the woman -  _ her  _ woman - had to be standing. When she could see small feet in shiny heels, she mumbled: “Hi.”

“Hello.” The woman’s voice warmed her insides, and when she heard her speak, the aura around her got brighter. That was yellow, someone had once told her. 

“So. You’re it.” Franky stated it like it was an inconvenient newsflash, keeping her eyes locked on the floor.

“I guess so. I’m Bridget.” The name fitted her, and Franky had to do everything in her power to prevent herself from looking up, but she took a deep breath and announced: “You might be seeing things, or think you’re seeing things, but you’re wrong. You’re better off without me.” She spun around and quickly walked back over to Boomer, telling the girl: “Come on. Allie’s probably wondering what’s taking us so long.” Suddenly, a hand grabbed her forearm, and she closed her eyes immediately in reaction. She couldn’t do it.

“Please, at least tell me your name. Then, I’ll let you go.” Bridget’s voice sounded broken, and she could already picture the hurt look on the woman’s face. Franky nodded, her eyes still shut as tightly as they would.

“It’s Franky.” When she had told Bridget her name, the older woman had immediately let go of her, and softly told her: “Okay. Thank you, Franky. I’ll walk away now. I promise.” True to her word, Franky could hear high heels walking away from her, and Bridget’s voice telling someone: “Let’s go eat somewhere else, Hel.” After a minute, she dared ask: “Booms?”

“Yeah?” her friend had offered.

“Did she leave?”

“Yup.” Sighing deeply, Franky opened her eyes once more, blinking as the different shades of grey came back into view. She immediately felt a sense of loss at the absence of the woman with the gentle alto voice.

“So is she your…” Boomer began, but Franky silenced her with a quick: “Shush.”

“But…” the girl tried again.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

 

“It was her, wasn’t it?” Helen asked Bridget as they walked towards a sandwich shop. Bridget shrugged, silent. “Your soulm…”

“Please don’t say it,” the psychologist begged her sister. “It hurts enough as it is.”

Helen nodded. If this was the end of it, she would leave it alone. Knowing, Bridget though, she’d wait. She would wait and hope, until the very end.

 

But it wasn’t the end. Bridget kept showing up in Franky’s dreams, both day and night. She saw her everywhere she went. She felt an emptiness in her heart that hadn’t been there before. After watching her muck around for a number of weeks, Allie had sighed, and told her: “Go find her.” 

“How?” Franky had asked.

“You’re a smart girl.” 

 

So, Franky had gone to the library and logged on to the computer. Boomer had told her how similar Bridget and the woman she had been with looked, so she could only assume they were twins, or sisters at the very least. She had called her ‘Hel’. Opening a browser, she typed ‘Bridget Helen’ into the search bar, and pressed ‘go’, holding her breath. The first couple of search results brought her nothing but information on Helen Fielding, so she clicked ‘image results’ instead. Her eyes scanned the webpage until her breath caught in her throat. There she was, standing next to a woman who may have seemed a carbon copy to anyone else, but Franky  _ knew _ . It was her. The description next to the photo read: “Bridget and Helen Westfall of  _ Peaceful Soul _ .” A further search taught her  _ Peaceful Soul  _ was a private psychotherapy practice. She shook her head, smiling. A shrink. Her… She was a freaking shrink.

 

Bridget walked out of the office, locking the door behind her. It was late, and she was the last one out of the building, having just said goodbye to their receptionist. Darkness surrounded her, the vicinity illuminated only by the glow of the streetlights. As she made her way to her car, she could feel a presence nearby. Looking up, her gaze found a woman standing across the street from her, partially hiding in the shadows of the overpass. An awkward wave greeted her, the woman’s eyes hidden behind sunglasses as dark as night. Bridget walked around her car and stopped, waiting for the woman to run away as she expected she would.

By now, she later mused, she should have stopped expecting things and not expecting things. She was always wrong anyway.

The woman moved closer to her until she was standing at arm’s length.

“Franky,” Bridget sighed. Why was she doing this? Did she take pleasure in holding the unreachable in front of her face, like some sort of tantalisation? 

“Gidget,” Franky whispered in response. 

“It’s Bridget,” the psychologist replied. Franky grinned.

“I know.” Just as Bridget turned to walk away, run away, drive away, a hand grabbed her forearm. Looking up at Franky’s face, her breath caught in her throat as she watched the younger woman raise her hand up to the bridge of her nose and lift the sunglasses to rest on the top of her head.

Her eyes were the brightest green Bridget would ever witness.

“I’m sorry,” Franky offered. She couldn’t stop staring at the cerulean of the other woman’s irises. Bridget smiled.

“It’s okay now.”

 

Their world was technicolour.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I've been wanting to write a soulmate AU for quite some time now, so I'm happy to have written one now! I'm still working on my other stories, and ADancerWrites and I have not forgotten about The Clock Is Ticking either! Real life has just been a huge pain in the gluteus maximus, but it WILL be completed, we promise!


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